Maritari
by Trinity Everett
Summary: A collection of Caskett oneshots centered around. Third Chapter: Marry me. We'll paint the rooms of our house and get more paint on us than on the walls. Painting day in the Beckett-Rodgers household.
1. Big Breaks

About a week or two ago, I saw a post floating around on tumblr, and I was inspired. And since, apparently, I can't have just one fic to work on at a time, I'm sharing the first part with you now.

Each chapter is a self-contained Caskett oneshot all centering around a line from that post. I'll mark each chapter with information about said chapter.

**Maritari**

**Category: **Chapter 1** -** MeetingAU (For the sake of this, Castle and Beckett are closer in age and their circumstances are different.)

**Rating: **T

**Summary:** Two people working hard to survive together get good news.

_**Chapter 1 - Big Breaks**_

* * *

><p><em>Marry me. Let's spend our nights eating cereal on the floor when there is a perfectly fine table behind us.<em>

"What's all this, Kate?" he asks, stepping gingerly into the living room of their new home, taking in what she's done since she left work just an hour ago.

They still can't afford the place, but optimism had them taking out a loan and hoping they'll get lucky and be able to pay it back and make rent on their own soon. The loft is way, way bigger than their last apartment (not that there's much that isn't bigger than the shoebox they'd picked out together two hours after going down to the justice of the peace and becoming man and wife) and they're still working on furnishing it. They don't have much – their mattress is still on the floor in their bedroom – but they have a table now. A real one, a sturdy one, with a full set of matching chairs and everything, but there she is on the ratty blanket he's had since his boarding school days, beaming as he takes in the picnic she's prepared.

In front of her are two bowls of his favorite fruity cereal and a jug of milk waiting to be poured. Two glasses of champagne top off the tableau. He grins when his eyes return to her face.

"A picnic? What'd I do to earn this?"

"Take your shoes off and join me and I'll tell you what this is all about."

His shoes land against hers in a heap beside the door and he decides to make use of the slick hardwood floor by sliding over to her in his socks. His wife giggles in response, catching his hand as soon as he's within range and tugging him down to the floor pillows with her. He laughs, too, canting against her.

"Hi," she greets, leaning in to kiss him slowly. Her hand slides around his neck, scratching his hairline with her short nails. His eyes slip shut, the contact soothing away the frustrations he'd been dealing with since they parted ways that morning. "How was your day?"

"Terrible. Another three publishing houses wouldn't even talk to me. What about yours?" He keeps his answer short. He doesn't want to dwell on his miserable day; he can't, otherwise it'll bring everything down and he won't do that to her. Not when her eyes are so bright and happy. She has her share of bad days, too, even if today isn't one of them.

She squeezes his neck gently. "I'm sorry, babe. Mine was long. He dumped two more projects on me. Needs them finished before the end of the month. Along with the other ones."

She's so close to finishing her degree, but it's wearing on her, he knows. It'll be the right choice in the end, staying the course instead of dropping out and applying to the police academy, but he knows she's chafing to get started. To find whoever shoved a knife in her mother's back one night in an alley. The police have written it off as random violence, a gang initiation, but he knows Kate's not so sure, and she's letting that drive for answers steer her career path.

His mother-in-law survived the attack because of quick reflexes and a homeless man looking for a quiet place to sleep that January night, but the damage was already done; Johanna spent months in the hospital and in rehab facilities, fighting off complications and regaining her strength. She'll likely be wheelchair-bound for the rest of her life. Kate's father is still coping with the changes – some days better than others – although the last time they saw them, they at least appeared to be putting each other back together instead of pulling one another apart.

Johanna's even talking about going back to work soon, though that idea hasn't gone over well with either Kate or Jim. He understands his mother-in-law's reasons, though.

The Becketts are both lawyers, both successful, but hospital bills add up, insurance only covers so much, and he and Kate are in no position to help. If he could only get someone to take a chance on his novel, he'd be able to, he's sure of it. He needs to help his family.

"What're the projects this time?" he asks, slipping his hand under her oversized sweater and trailing up her side.

She shivers, scooting closer to him. "What aren't the projects this time? Papers, composition projects, analyses. One of them's a diorama, Rick. A diorama. Do you remember the last time you had to make one of those? If it was after the seventh grade, I'll give you a massage every day for a week."

Damn, she has him there. He considers lying; he does love her hands. She'd know, though. She always knows.

"Damn, it was sixth for me. But hey, it's an art project," he hums, kissing her neck lightly. "Want me to do that one for you?"

"No," she refuses, settling heavily against his side. "But I'll let you help me. I know how you like to get your hands messy." Her hand ghosts up his thigh.

"Mrs. Rodgers," he gasps, feigning scandal. "From what I recall, you have no problem with how I use my hands." One of said hands slides over her ribcage, fingers curling under the elastic of her sports bra to brush the gentle curve of her breast. The bra's one of her worn, nearly stretched out lounging ones, he knows. Probably the purple one, since that's her favorite.

"Mmm, you have me there," she agrees, swatting at his hand and squirming away after a moment. The mysterious smile is back on her face. "You hungry?"

"Starving." He sits up, hand falling to rest on her hip. "I'll get some sandwich meat and bread after my shift tomorrow so we don't have to keep skipping lunch." At least he's on the early shift at the bookstore tomorrow. Next week he'll be working closing and he has a feeling they'll barely have the opportunity to see each other.

His wife shimmies into his lap, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Hey," she murmurs, knocking her head against his. "Tomorrow'll be better. So we skip lunch every once in a while, who cares? We have enough when we need it."

"I care, Kate. I care that we're busting our asses to take care of each other, and your parents, and my mom, and we're barely surviving."

"But we're surviving. Isn't that what's important? That's what you told me that day in the library. The day we met." Her lips drift over his face, breath puffing over his eyelids when he can't help but let his eyes drift shut.

She's right. He had said that.

He'd been at the library doing research, trying to add authenticity to his novel before sending a new copy of the manuscript out in hopes of snagging a publisher. She'd been bent over a textbook, studying for a final she was sure she'd fail, given that she'd spent most of her semester at her mother's bedside instead of across the country at Stanford.

After watching her struggle out of the corner of his eye for over thirty minutes, he'd stood and stretched, asking the ether to watch his stuff while he took a break. When he returned, he had two cups of coffee in his hands, one for himself and one for her.

"You'll get through it," he'd told her quietly, placing the coffee in front of her, but out of the way of her near-frantic page turning.

She'd snapped at him at first, reminding him to mind his own business, but he'd just smiled and offered her optimism he didn't even feel for himself.

"Surviving is the most important part, even if it sucks along the way. You got this."

She'd told him he'd be terrible at writing greeting cards, but just seconds later followed it up with a quiet thanks as he made his way back to his seat.

Less than ten minutes later she'd joined him at his end of the table, cradling his coffee gift against her chest as she unburdened herself to him. She needed to pass to be able to transfer to NYU, and if she couldn't do that, she was pretty sure she'd have to drop out entirely to take care of her parents. Somehow he'd ended up quizzing her on her test material until the library closed and they'd been forced to part.

He'd found her number and a thank you message in his research notes when he settled in another coffee shop an hour later. Not being an idiot, he'd called and wished her good luck on her final and reminded her to have a safe flight.

Suffice to say she'd passed her final and she'd transferred back to the east coast for school. Then, after months of phone calls and checking in, she'd found him in the library and kissed him until his vision went a little hazy.

"Put your pen down and have dinner with me," she'd ordered, looking him in the eye and daring him to turn her down.

Not being an idiot, he hadn't.

Six months after their first kiss, they were married (a move that was met with incredulity from both of their families, though the astonished looks ceased after a few months). Now here they are over a year later. Surviving together.

"You're right," he relents, rubbing her back gently. "You're right. We are surviving together."

"Of course I'm right, husband. Of course I am. Now," she steals a kiss when he finally smiles. "I have prepared an excellent dinner for us. And I have a surprise or two for you for after we eat."

He releases her long enough for her to pour the milk into their cereal bowls and hand him one.

"Bon appétit," she grins, clinking her spoon against his.

"You're so sexy when you speak French to me."

Kate laughs, leaning her head on his shoulder as she slurps at her cereal. With each fruit flavored bite, he feels his tension fade away. It could be the sugar working on his mood, or it could be the general contentment that comes from being with her, from living this life with her at his side.

"You're sexy when you speak Latin to me," she hums, lifting her eyes to his.

He grins. "And boarding school is finally good for something. Wooing my woman."

His wife kisses his shoulder quickly. "Finish your dinner, Rick."

As soon as he slurps the last of the pastel-tinted, fruit flavored milk from his bowl, she whisks it out of his hand and deposits a champagne flute he recognizes from her parents' house between his fingers.

"So what is this?" He can't help but look confused again. It's not their wedding anniversary, it's not the anniversary of the day they met, or the day she kissed him for the first time, or the day he proposed. He knows those dates by heart. It's also not her birthday or his. He would remember if it were a celebration of a date. He's good at remembering those things.

"This… is good news."

She hands him two envelopes. One with his name on it, one with hers. Leaning in, she pecks his lips. "Open them, Rick."

"Kay, okay, hold this." He passes the glass to her, watching her face for hints. She's lowered her chin to keep him from seeing too much, lip pulled between her teeth. "Which one first?"

"Either. I know what both say."

His fingers delve under the fold of the envelope addressed to him. Kate's knee bounces against his thigh, a sure sign that the news he's about to read is actually good. She wouldn't be this eager for him to read bad news.

"Dear Mr. Rodgers," he reads aloud absently, his thumb making circles on her knee. "Thank you for contacting us at Black Pawn Publishing. We have reviewed your manuscript and – " he stops, eyes darting to hers. Kate grins, indicating with her head to continue, "And we would like to formally accept your project for publishing early next year!"

The letter ends up crushed between them as he drags his wife closer, mouth covering hers gleefully.

"Holy shi- Kate, Kate, they said yes. They said…" He reads the letter again, eyes scanning every word twice just to be sure. "They want to meet with me next week to finalize details and talk edits, and they're interested in any other manuscripts I've written, too."

Kate cups his cheeks, swiping at his suspiciously damp eyes. She's been beside him through so many rejections, each one weighing him down more than the last; this acceptance letter feels like a life preserver. "What'd I tell you? I told you it'd work out. How could it not?"

"They want to publish my book, Kate."

Her fingers slide through his hair, scratching his scalp gently. "I'm proud of you. So proud of you, babe."

He sniffs, pressing his face into her shoulder for just a moment. Two deep breaths later, he's sitting up again, reaching for the crumpled envelope that's addressed to her.

Kate's chin lands on his shoulder. His lips seek hers again, giddiness making the kiss sloppy.

She grins, tugging lightly on his lip before releasing his mouth. "Go on. Read this one now."

Adrenaline makes his hands shake as he opens the next envelope. He has no idea what she could be showing him. Did she decide to apply for the academy anyway? Did she make Dean's list again?

NYU letterhead catches his attention first, followed closely by the words "Health Services." Kate hides her face when he tries to catch her eye, but he knows she's smiling, even if he can't see her lips. He won't ask what he's looking at, he'll just read on.

Wait, what? His head shoots up.

"You had bloodwork done? Why? Are you okay?"

Kate exhales, nodding. "I'm okay, babe. I went in to get my birth control prescription renewed and maybe see about getting on one that doesn't upset my stomach so much, and they started asking questions. So, to be sure, we ran some bloodwork."

"And?"

"And you should read on, Mr. Rodgers, instead of wanting spoilers for the ending," she teases softly, kissing his jaw. Her hand slides under his shirt, pressing against his lower back.

He does, covering his mouth to hide the decidedly unmanly squeak that comes out of his mouth when he gets to the punchline. For the second time in just a few minutes, giddy tears prick his eyes.

"They're sure?"

Kate presses her lips to his shoulder. "I called to ask them the same question. I asked a few different ways, no less. They're sure. She referred me to another doctor, but I wanted to tell you before I made an appointment."

"Kate," he chokes out, wrapping her up, cupping the back of her head gently. "Kate, Kate, Kate."

She straddles him, pressing her face into his neck.

"I know it's unexpected, but it's good news. I think it's good news, I mean. And we can figure things out; we can make it work with money and with our plans." He feels her grip his shirt. "Do… do you think so?"

"God, Kate," he breathes, kissing her hair, her ear, even the curve of her jaw. Speechless doesn't even begin to cover it; this has completely stolen his words. "This is… wow. God, wow."

She laughs, swiping her eyes quickly. "Good wow or bad wow?"

"Good wow, Kate. So good. A great wow."

Her head lifts, forehead sliding against his. Catching her neck, his mouth covers hers. His wife rocks into him, her lips parting in surprise. Shit, he should've kissed her first. He should've come up with something more to say, something profound and reassuring, something befitting his position as an aspiring writer. Something that tells her how badly he's wanted this with her even if it is unexpected and the timing isn't even close to being great.

Instead, he pours it all into a kiss. Every neural impulse that might've formed a word becomes a gentle swipe of his tongue over her lip, across her teeth, along the roof of her mouth. Kate presses into him, holding his face between her hands.

She gasps his name. "Does this mean you're happy?"

If he were any happier, his heart might leave his chest and go skidding down the street to do cartwheels. "Happy's an understatement, sweetheart." His mouth smears over her cheek as his hand moves down to caress her belly. "We're having a baby."

* * *

><p><strong>maritari [<strong>Verb] - Sicilian

- to marry


	2. Catch It On Netflix

_I know I've said it before, but thank you so much for your support of this story. This chapter isn't in the same universe as the first chapter, but for anyone curious, we will see more of chapter 1's Kate and Rick again this story._

**Maritari**

**Category: **This chapter could be future!fic and it references 7x10.

**Rating: **T

**Chapter 2 - Catch It On Netflix**

* * *

><p><em>Marry me. We can go to the movie theatre and sit in the very back row just to make out like kids falling in love for the first time.<em>

She appears at his side, breaking through his writing haze without uttering a word. Glancing up, he finds her looking serene with her hip perched on his desk and her fingers laced against her belly.

"Hey," he greets, running his hand through his hair, mussing already mussed strands. "What time did you get home?" He checks his watch quickly, making sure she hasn't been waiting hours for him to come out of his creative coma.

"Hey," she drawls, cupping his cheek to get his eyes. "Few minutes ago. I was watching you."

"Mhmm, creepy." He grins.

"Takes one to know one, Castle," she singsongs, kissing him softly.

They've never been a normal couple, but since Gates made her reluctant announcement and kicked him out of the precinct all those years ago, he and Kate have made a hell of an effort to do this for each other; be as normal as they possibly can be. There's something so wonderful about the way she comes home at the end of the day and sheds the skin of the tough Beckett shell to become just Kate.

"You love me anyway."

Her lips quirk as she pushes his chair away from his desk just enough to slide into his lap. Their noses bump before he takes another kiss from her lips, this one a little more biting.

"Good writing day?" Her fingers are cool at his jaw, catching his stubble gently.

Truthfully, he'd only started getting words on the page a couple of hours ago, really hitting his stride just an hour before her work day ended. The early part of his day was spent shopping online, the middle part of the day he spent reading up on new massage techniques. He just smiles, though, kissing his wife's fingers gently when they scoot across his mouth.

"Not too bad. Two chapters done. They're rough, but passable for now."

Kate smiles, green flecks dancing in her eyes. "Good."

"Forgot to start dinner, though." His chin lowers in apology. This makes the third time in a week. It's hard to get moving on time when he's the only one home.

She squeezes his neck gently, smoothing her lips over his cheekbone. "Don't care. You're not the short order cook. Come on, let's go out. We'll get dinner and then I wanna do something."

He glances down at his attire; the ratty t-shirt he'd dug out of the bottom of his drawer (he should probably do some laundry, too, shouldn't he?) will not do under any circumstances for a night out with his wife. Even if it's just dinner in an overpriced, crowded diner.

"You're fine," Beckett promises, plucking at his shirt. It's easy for her to say considering she looks fresh off the runway gorgeous even after a full day at work. "Toss a jacket on over it and you'll be good to go."

"Sweats and all?" He lifts an eyebrow, kissing her brow. Her nose crinkles a little bit as she lowers a hand to tug on his waistband. Yeah, he's going to need her to not do that if she expects to go anywhere.

He catches her hand in his, swiping a kiss on her palm before returning it to safer territory.

"Mmm, maybe not. Okay, go change first. Jeans. Jacket over your shirt, that's all that's necessary. No suit."

She smiles, smoothing her hands over his shoulders as she stands. His own fingers move down her back, squirming tantalizingly across the swell of her behind before she swats him away.

"Behave," she warns, tongue poking between her teeth. "I'll wait here."

And then she's perching her backside on his desk blotter, swinging her legs innocently. Heaving himself up, he settles his palms on either side of her to steal a slow kiss from her smiling mouth.

"Keep waiting like that and we're not going to make it to dinner."

Warmth fills his chest with her laugh. This is good; their lives are constantly changing, but they're still okay. They're still strong and together.

"Go, Castle." She shoves him lightly, pulling her lip between her teeth. He's getting to her a little bit, he can tell.

"Hmm, are you sure I can't entice you into stepping into the next room with me?" His finger trails up her arm, tracing the seam on her shirt to brush the curve of her neck. She squirms, clamping her chin against his hand.

"Nah uh. I'm hungry for food first."

"Spoilsport."

"You'll survive," she promises, palming his butt quickly. "Go."

Sure enough, he manages to succeed in changing his clothes and taming his hair without spontaneously keeling over. When he returns, Kate's still seated on his desk and she's scrolling on her phone to keep herself busy. He doesn't manage to see exactly what she's reading before she turns off the screen and shoves it into her pocket, but it looked suspiciously like the Fandango website.

Is she taking him to a movie?

"Ready?" She smiles, lifting her chin.

He leans in, sneaking a kiss. His fingers curl into her pocket, fishing for her phone.

"Ah, ah, ah." She slaps his hand away, sliding their fingers over each other. "Dinner, then surprise."

"Fiiine," he huffs. "Let's go."

They have dinner at a place he's never been to before; from the outside it looks like nothing more than a hole in the wall, but as soon as the doors open, he eats the protest that'd been on his lips.

The place is awesome. It's reminiscent of The Old Haunt. It's part of the appeal, Kate acknowledges against his cheek.

"But I don't think you need to buy this one, too, Castle," she adds quietly.

He chuckles, rubbing her back gently. "I'll settle for being a customer, then."

Kate grins, pushing a soft kiss onto his lips before pulling away and giving the host their name, _Castle_.

She's still Beckett everywhere, even to him, but there are times when she revels in claiming him. He revels in being claimed, even after this many years of marriage. Especially after this many years.

"You called ahead?" he asks, cocking his head. "What if I _had_ started dinner before you got home?"

Kate laughs easily, tugging on the back of his jacket. "I called while you were changing. And I made other reservations for later, too."

"Where?"

A mysterious grin is all he gets as her fingers slot between his and she tugs him to follow a server to their table.

Dinner is fun. The atmosphere is awesome, and it's made infinitely better by the gorgeous woman with sparkling eyes fitted against his side. She feeds him bites of her food and steals pieces of his in between silly stories. They don't talk about work or writing, or any of the other things that've been causing them stress lately, they just enjoy being where they are.

Beckett accepts the check at the end of their meal, barely sparing him a glance in response to his quiet protest. Money's never been a problem for them, not the having it and not how it's used, but he likes to take care of her any way he can.

"My date, my treat, Castle," she says finally, after their server scurries off with her credit card. He smiles, squeezing her knee.

"You're right. I like being treated."

"Somehow I knew you would."

They link arms again as they leave the restaurant. Kate isn't telling him where they're going, but he has a feeling he knows once they begin to walk. Sure enough, they find their way in front of a familiar movie theater box office a few blocks later. His wife brandishes her phone, tapping the screen to read instructions for picking up their tickets.

"We can go in. They should have a scanner." She's right. He remembers hearing about the system upgrades the theater has been making.

"What are we seeing?" he asks, scanning the marquee for a clue about Kate's choice until she drags him inside.

His wife grins over her shoulder and that look is enough to send a shiver down his back. "Does it matter, babe?"

O-oh, they're not going to a movie to see the movie.

God, he loves this woman.

The ticket taker waves them through, pointing his wife in the direction of their theater. Kate stops in front of the concessions stand, looking up at him, her eyes bright and eager.

"Popcorn? Gummies? Bottled water?"

"I'm stuffed, maybe just the water."

She beams, stealing a kiss. "I'll get something sweet to share, too. I know you'll want it halfway through the movie."

He holds their water bottles as she leads him into the theater. The lights are dim, but they're early enough that it isn't pitch black. Not that having light matters much; he has a feeling he knows exactly where she's going.

Kate picks a spot to the left of center in the last row, gesturing for him to scoot in first. He helps her sit, holding her elbow since she's already warned him against lowering the arm rest between their seats.

Yeah, he's totally onto her.

His wife settles beside him, taking a slow drag from her bottle of water as the pre-movie ads thunder in front of them. It's relaxing, sinking into the theater seat and stretching his legs out. The whole night's been relaxing.

"Thanks, Kate."

"Mmm? For what?"

"Making me take a break."

Taking his hand, Kate curls his arm around her, letting herself rest heavily against his side. The weight of a long week has finally started to leave her shoulders, too.

"I needed it, too, believe me."

Exhaling, he pulls her closer. They've been through a lot recently. A lot of changes; a lot of ups and a lot of downs. They did need this.

Kate squeezes him, kissing his chin carefully. "I have some time off coming up. Think we can round everyone up for a small vacation?"

"I think that can be arranged. I'll call Alexis tomorrow. You get Mother."

"Uh huh. Make sure everyone can get time off, please."

He sighs. She means his daughter's fiancé. He isn't a fan of the man at all, but Alexis loves him for whatever reason, and he's been told he doesn't have a choice in the matter.

His daughter may be in her thirties but it doesn't mean he can't still try to protect her.

"_Fine_, Beckett."

"You'll be rewarded handsomely for your cooperation," she purrs, lifting her head to kiss him as the lights begin to dim.

Her mouth slides warmly across his, lips soft and unhurried. She's in this one for the long haul and he can't complain. They have probably thirty minutes of previews ahead of them before their movie even starts. What better way to pass the time?

"Mhmm, I better be, woman," he mock-grouses, curling his fingers around her shoulder.

She grins, nuzzling his mouth again lazily. "Yes, dear."

After a few half-kisses, she slides away slightly. In the dim light, he sees her fingers curl around the package of M&Ms before she returns to settle against his chest again.

"Snack?"

"Sure." His mouth pops open for her to feed him.

Beckett rolls her eyes but pushes an M&M between his lips. Her thumb skids along his lower lip, retreating as soon as he puckers to return the affection.

Tease.

He murmurs as much amidst one particularly loud trailer, but the wicked grin on her face tells him she knows what he's said anyway.

Another piece of candy bumps his lips. This time he manages to catch the pad of her index finger with the very tip of his tongue as he accepts the offering. He feels her breath catch at the contact, but she doesn't move closer. It's a game of delayed gratification, so to speak. He's fairly certain they won't be doing _that_ in this theater tonight; Kate's exhibitionist streak has mostly been tamed.

"Cute," she mutters.

"Returning the favor."

"Uh huh." His insolence earns him another piece of chocolate and the easy press of her lips.

The theater darkens again as the final trailer fades out and the intro music for the feature film begins. Kate grins against his mouth, turning her head slightly so he can see which movie they won't be watching this evening.

"Oh this was a good choice," he breathes. It's a romantic comedy, a typical date movie. One they never watch even for free.

"Uh huh," she agrees, squirming in her seat. "Figured the reviews were bad enough that there wouldn't be many people in here a month after release."

Their lips brush again. "So smart, Captain Beckett. I think you get smarter every day."

Kate's fingers curl around his shirt collar, her mouth colliding hard against his. The promotion's still new, the title still foreign to her, but he's been waiting years to call her that and he takes every opportunity to do so.

He pulls on her lip gently, tracing its fullness with a swipe of his tongue. The taste of chocolate clings to her mouth; he needs more. More chocolate, more glimpses of the red wine she had at dinner, more of _her_.

His wife scoots closer, brushing the backs of her fingers across his throat. Her hand's cool against his heated skin and the contrast makes him shiver.

"Like that?" she whispers, flicking her tongue over his lip this time.

"Uh huh."

Finally his hands remember they work, one splaying across her lower back, keeping her against him, the other sliding through her hair. He doesn't let her go far, even as she retreats from the kiss to suck air into her lungs. Instead, his mouth slides across her chin, nipping lightly at her jawline before moving to her neck.

Kate groans, gripping his shirt tighter. "Do _not_ leave a mark, Castle."

Pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her neck, he grins. "It'll go away by Monday."

"Uh huh," she murmurs. "And do you want to explain why you gave me a hickey to the boys when they get home from their sleepover?"

O-oh, yeah she has a point. Explaining love bites to two twelve year old boys isn't on his list of priorities just yet. Still, he nuzzles the spot on her neck.

"I'll be careful."

His wife grunts, palming the back of his head. "Damn well better be," she mutters, arching into his mouth.

"Always am, Beckett." He kisses her neck again lightly, tongue darting out. Her perfume has long-since faded away, giving him only the sweetness and tang of her skin.

"And yet, somehow, we ended up with three kids," she drawls, voice low against his ear.

They both know the boys were a result of _her_ seduction on their anniversary, but he'll let it slide this time.

"Well, the time traveler _said_ –"

"Well, your wife is saying shut up and kiss me."

His mouth flattens against hers again.

The throat clearing behind her takes him by surprise, but he simply cups Kate's cheek and goes in for another kiss. Whoever's near them probably just needs a throat lozenge. They must've come in late and decided to sit on their row for some reason.

Beckett giggles against his lips when the throat clears again.

"Maybe I should share the water with them."

"Mhmm, maybe." He slips his hand under her shirt, smoothing against the plane of her stomach and moving upward carefully. She shivers against his hand.

"Second base already, hmm?" She tilts her head, kissing the center of his chin. "Ambitious."

Still she rocks into his hand, encouraging him to move higher.

"You know m-me," he stutters as her mouth trails over his neck. "Opportunity is knockin –"

"Sir, ma'am, we're going to have to ask you to leave."

Beckett jumps to her feet as the voice cuts through a quiet moment in the movie. His hand drops less than subtly as she tries to adjust her clothing, push her mussed hair behind her ears, and look professional.

"What um, is there a problem?" Smooth, Kate, very smooth. Better than him, of course, considering he's going to need to cover his lap with his jacket before he goes anywhere. She at least manages to make her voice strong, no-nonsense, as she faces two theater employees. Did they really warrant two people?

"We've received complaints about your behavio –" The taller figure begins, only to be interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Oh my god, Mom? Dad?"

Kate recoils. "Riley?"

"I – you're the ones – you've been – eww. _Eww_." Their fifteen year old daughter's face twists in disgust.

He's only able to look around in horror. Yes, both he and Kate had known she was working tonight, but this… this was not what they'd expected to happen. Isn't she usually on concessions?

His wife's hand clamps around his arm. "We'll be going now. We're… I'm sorry."

She practically drags him out of his seat, shoving his jacket against his belly and hissing to get moving.

Still, he stops in front of his daughter – his traumatized baby girl. She won't look him in the eye, of course, but he kisses the side of her head anyway. He's had reservations about his daughter working so early in her teens, but this scenario was never one of the reasons. "Sorry, sweetheart. Ice cream sundaes when you get home? Make it up to you?"

"Dad, go," she pleads, shuddering. "Just… eww, go."

Kate rounds back to hug their daughter quickly. "Sorry, Riley."

"Not making it better, Mom." Her head ducks in embarrassment, a mannerism stolen from Kate herself.

"Don't hate us, please."

"_Mom_," Riley hisses in warning. "I'm still working."

"Going, we're going. And the car will be waiting for you when you get off work," she adds over her shoulder.

It's the only thing he's put his foot down about; if his child is working late, she's going to be taking a car home, not walking, not taking a cab, and not getting on the subway.

Riley looks mortified at the reminder, though.

His wife's arm curls through his and she yanks him down the stairs and out of the theater.

"That was," she breathes once they're on the sidewalk, navigating their way around excited moviegoers.

"The best date ever?" he asks before she has the chance to finish her thought.

"Castle! We got kicked out of the movie by our _daughter_. That was humiliating."

He grins, glancing around to make sure their teenager won't bust them again before he pulls her in for another kiss. Beckett sighs, leaning into him.

"Come on, you know it was fun while it lasted."

She grins into his mouth finally. "Yeah it was. Wanna go home and do it some more?"

"At least until Riley comes home."

His wife laughs, pressing her forehead against his. "Oh, she's not going to even look at us until tomorrow night. She's going to run to her room and call the rest of her friends to fill them in on how gross we are."

"Mmm, true. Come on, then, let's go home and be gross some more."

Kate laughs again, stealing one last kiss before they get moving. "Let's go."


	3. Artistic License

_Sorry for the delay with this chapter! I think it's really fun, so I hope you enjoy it._

_This takes place in the same universe as chapter 1._

**Maritari**

**Category:** AU (same universe as chapter 1), Fluff

**Rating:** T

**Summary**: Painting day in the Beckett-Rodgers household.

_**Chapter 3 - Artistic License**_

* * *

><p><em>Marry me. We'll paint the rooms of our house and get more paint on us than on the walls.<em>

As he stands at the breakfast bar paging through the mail, he only has one thought: There are a _lot_ of zeroes on this check from Black Pawn.

It's an advance of sorts, to be used throughout the editing process for the two manuscripts he's given them already and for the completion of the one he's working on right now, but he's not sure he'll use it that way. He doesn't need money to edit. Even though he could use part of the check to get his own laptop, instead of using the one he's been borrowing from a guy at work since promising to take a few of his shifts over the holidays (and to name a character after him), he won't do that just yet.

Right now they can use the money for other things. After over a year of being at his side when things were tight, Kate deserves to be spoiled a little bit, and he knows exactly how he's going to do that.

The first thing on his list is to buy her a bed, a real one that's comfortable and attractive, and not terrible on their backs. His wife – his pregnant wife – isn't going to sleep on a mattress on the floor anymore.

After the bed, he wants to get everything set up for the baby's room. They have time, but with this money they can make it perfect, make it everything they want it to be long before their daughter – or son, Kate reminds him each time he insists it's a girl – arrives. It'll take a load off their minds, he knows, not to have to worry about all the baby _stuff_ and just worry about the baby in a few months.

After that, he's not sure just yet. But he'll figure it out as they go.

"Hey babe, you mind giving me some help with these things?"

Spinning, he finds his wife attempting to lumber through the door, her arms full of plastic grocery bags. Behind her, he sees three bulging white garbage bags as well.

"He- hey! Hey, sorry, sorry."

She laughs against his lips when he sneaks a kiss between grabbing the bags. "Proper kiss in a sec. Those go in the kitchen. There's more out here."

"What is all this stuff?" He peeks inside one of the bags before depositing it on the counter and returning to collect the rest from around her feet.

"Groceries."

His wife smiles gratefully, ducking out into the hall to shove the garbage bags inside. His eyebrow only shoots up further when she disappears entirely for a moment, only to return with two more heavy-looking canvas bags. She should've let him get those, stubborn woman.

"Yeah," she grunts, settling the bags just inside the door. "The cabbie loved me."

He laughs at that, reaching around her to check the hallway for anything else she might've forgotten. Satisfied that it's empty, he backs inside, turning to survey the pile they've just brought into their home.

It's a short-lived look, though, because Kate's arms wind around his neck, drawing him down into the previously promised proper kiss. Her lips taste like chocolate and happiness and he can't help the slide of his tongue against her flesh. He needs more of her. They've both had good days; they should take a moment to bask in that.

She pulls away briefly, sucking in a lungful of air. It gives him the chance to divest her of her sweatshirt and the thin t-shirt underneath it before he presses his smile against hers again.

"Good day?" he pants against her lips finally, needing air of his own again. Her hands are making quick work of his bookstore-mandated polo shirt, slipping the final two buttons free before tugging it over his head.

"Mhmm," she hums, nipping at his mouth. Her hands curl against his shoulders, pulling him closer as her hips rock against his leg. "Even better now."

Laughing, his hands slide over her back. One dips under the waistband of her jeans, the other roaming upward and under the band of her bra. She presses closer, her mouth breaking from his to make a slow, torturous trek across his jaw and down his neck. Her tongue coaxes a groan from his lips.

She's going to kill him. Especially when she giggles that way.

He dies a little more when she rolls her hips against his already uncomfortable khakis.

"Bed?" he grunts, unfastening her bra and tossing it somewhere in his haste to get to her skin. His thumb smooths over an indentation the underwire has left behind before he palms her breast gently. She groans against his neck, arching into his hand. Pregnancy has made her breasts so sensitive; he can't help but tease a thumb around her nipple to hear her moan again.

"Couch, s'closer." Her hand skims down his chest, cupping him through his pants.

Couch it is.

He wakes a little later from an exhausted, sated sleep to his wife's bright smile and eager eyes. They're wrapped in a blanket that's far too small for two, but neither of them seem to mind their limbs peeking out in order to accommodate them both.

"Hey," she whispers, stretching up to kiss his chin. "How was your nap?"

Sex always makes her animated. Even as pregnancy takes a toll on her energy levels, sex makes her glow, it makes her feel strong, it makes her want to conquer everything in life.

"Mmm, good. How long was I out?" He rubs the heel of his hand against his eye, blinking to clear whatever sleep remains.

"Bout an hour. I dozed too." She grins, trailing her fingertip over his nipple. "Our ice cream's probably melting, but I'd say it was worth it."

Matching her grin, he hauls her closer. "Definitely worth it. How're you feeling?" Out of the blue, her morning sickness had kicked into overdrive. But only at night, so anything she eats has to be consumed early otherwise she risks waking up sick in the middle of the night. They've been warned that nausea is relatively normal, so he tries not to panic too much, but he hates that she can't sleep on top of it all.

Kate tucks herself against his neck, breath washing over his skin in a contented exhale. "Better now. Mom gave me some good ideas for helping the nausea before it starts."

He nods, rubbing her back gently. Whatever it took to keep her from feeling bad.

"She also bought the groceries today, so I invited her and dad over for dinner on Saturday since we're both off. I figured you'd be okay with it. We can invite your mom, too, if you want."

"Of course I'm okay with it. Mother's working I think, but I'll extend the invitation anyway so she doesn't feel snubbed. The last thing we want is a grandmother diva scorned."

His wife giggles against his throat, pressing a soft kiss wherever her lips land. "No, that is the last thing we want. We should see her play, too. Maybe she can get us matinee tickets sometime if we can both get an afternoon off work? I'd say we could just get the cheap seats, but there aren't any, and I don't want to insult her by trying to get them day-of and end up behind a pole or something."

He loves the way Kate loves his mother. For all the times his mother has looked at them and asked if they were sure, even calling them crazy for jumping into a marriage less than a year after meeting, Kate loves his mom and his mom adores her.

"I'll ask her that, too." He kisses her forehead. "For you, Kate, she'll leave tickets every weekend if you want them."

Cool fingers slide up and down his arm. "For you, too, Rick."

The relationship he has with his mom isn't the easiest thing in the world, but most of the time he believes that.

"Eh, she knows I've spent years backstage when I was growing up; the magic of the theater isn't there for me anymore," he tries, clearing his throat quickly. Kate's mouth slides over his neck, soothing hums vibrating his skin.

"Liar," she rumbles, palming his cheek. "You see magic everywhere. You bring magic everywhere. You give me magic daily."

His lips curve and his eyebrows wiggle at the possibly unintended innuendo. "Speaking of giving you magic, wanna hear what came in the mail today?"

"Uh huh." She steals one more kiss before sitting up as far as their blanket will allow. "Was it what you were looking at when I came in?"

"Yeah," he confirms, breaking his train of thought to tug her hair out of its ruined ponytail. He settles his fingers against the crown of her head for a quick massage. Her eyes flutter shut, chin dipping toward her chest as he eases any aches having her hair up has caused. His fingers move across her head, curling behind her ears to circle the spots he knows she holds tension.

"Did you see your dad today?" he blurts it out without really thinking, but his wife leans into his hands even more, forgiving his blunder.

"Mmm, yeah I did. He tried to come with me and mom and got frustrated when she said no."

Ah. "Did he…"

"Have a drink?"

"Yeah," he bites his lip, circling his thumb carefully. Jim's coping mechanism worries them all, more than they often admit to each other. It'd started after Johanna was hurt, but any time Jim was concerned for someone's safety now, it seemed like he reached for a tumbler of Bourbon as a crutch.

"No. At least not as far as I saw when we went home. Mom let him fuss over her and get her situated to rest. Then once she was asleep, I asked him to go with me on another errand," she explains, head lolling into his hands. "I was surprised he even left the house with her napping, but he was fine and clearheaded."

His lips slide over her forehead. "He'll be okay. Between the three of us, we'll figure it out."

Kate smiles softly, catching his mouth in an easy kiss. "I suggested maybe he talk to someone about the anxiety and mom said, 'Katie, if you can get your stubborn father to talk to a therapist, I'll quit my job for good and be your full-time babysitter,' so I guess you can see how realistic that idea is."

"On the contrary, I think that is a challenge we need to accept." He squeezes her neck gently, gathering her hair again and deftly securing it in a messy bun.

Her laugh is soft, but unconvincing. "Sure, we'll accept that challenge. Now what's your magical surprise?"

He flips her gently, settling her head against the throw pillow as he stands. Without the warmth of her body and the blanket, the loft is even chillier than he thought. He'll bump the heat up a little soon.

"Stay there, I'll get it."

Joy infuses her features again as he darts around the couch in his birthday suit to get to the counter. He has to move their grocery bags – they should probably put those things away at some point – to find his prize, but soon enough he's able to unearth the check. He sees her head emerge over the top of the couch and grins.

"You're peeking."

"At that ass of yours," she retorts, her mouth buried in the cushion. Her eyebrows wiggle to make her point.

"Uh huh."

Eager to get warm again, he takes a gamble that he won't crush her long, slim legs and hops directly over the back of the couch. Kate giggles, dragging him into her blanket warmth. Said long legs drape across his lap and her head lands on his shoulder.

"So this arrived." He brandishes the check without much pageantry, instead holding it up to his face to he can see her expression when she reads it.

Her jaw drops, much the same way his did earlier. "That's… holy shit, Rick."

"That's just the _advance_, Kate. It's almost like back pay. They're that sure it's going to be a hit, that all of them are gonna be a hit."

The kiss she slams against his mouth is heady. "I love you so much," she whispers fiercely, only to add, "and I am _so_ proud of you."

His chest floods with warmth. "Thanks," he breathes, trailing his finger over her ear. "So what I'm thinking we should do is cash it, put half in our savings account or invest it or something. Something to build interest. Then with the other half, I say we splurge a little. Things for us, things for the baby. With what's left, we pay down the bills."

Her eyes shine at the idea. "What kind of things for the baby?"

"Let's do her room this weekend."

"You mean _his_ room?" she teases, thumbing his cheek.

He sticks his tongue out. "The nursery. Let's do the nursery this weekend."

She squeaks, kissing him firmly. "Kay, let's do it. Let's do it. Because actually," she drawls, nibbling the inside of her lip quickly. "I have a surprise, too."

With that, she hops off the couch, shivering as soon as her feet touch the floor. Rugs, they need rugs, too. That's definitely on their splurge list. She grabs his discarded sock from the floor, tugging the other one off his foot (huh, he hadn't even noticed that one staying on) and shoving her toes inside. His shirt goes over her head on her way to her own pile of treasures from the afternoon.

Finding his boxers, he follows her across the room, making only a brief detour to turn up the heat a little bit. Hardwood had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but when it gets chilly, it gets chilly.

"I dragged dad to the hardware store. He knows the guy who owns it and he kind of gives him a discount on stuff, especially when it's for me," she explains, tugging a gallon-sized can free from the canvas bag. "So we bought paint and painting supplies and everything to – oh!"

The paint can lands heavily against his back when he scoops her off her feet and spins her around, but he'll survive. "What color did you get?" He grins, rubbing his nose against her cheek.

"Green. Light green. And off-white for the accents."

Exactly what he would've chosen considering they won't find out if it's a boy or a girl for a little longer. He'll have to look at the mostly-untouched stack of baby books they got after meeting Kate's doctor for the first time.

"Mom reminded me that we can use some or all of my nursery furniture if we want to. It's in good condition, she said. It's off-white or something close to that, I think, so it'll match pretty well."

He nods eagerly.

"I was going to ask if we still could. She mentioned it to me the night we told them."

His wife's eyes brighten again as she nods in agreement. "We can tell them on Saturday and arrange to get it out of storage once all the painting's done. I think that'll be easier. And oh, I figured we could add other colors once we know what we're having. Yellows or purples. Whatever we want. Whatever the baby likes."

"Making your child decorate their own nursery," he tsks teasingly, bumping his mouth against hers until their breath comes a bit raggedly.

"Letting my child love their home as much as I do," she retorts, crinkling her nose playfully as she pulls away to settle the paint can on the floor again.

Straightening up, her arms wind around his waist and his wife tucks herself under his chin. Without her favorite chunky heeled boots giving her the extra height to put them almost eye to eye, she fits in the curve of his body like the space was carved out for her.

A part of him thinks it probably was.

Kate hums into his neck, sweeping her palms up his back. "Okay, husband, I'll put the groceries away if you haul the paint stuff upstairs? Then we can start on dinner?"

"Then I'll start on dinner while you relax."

"Then we can start on dinner," she argues with a grin. "Team effort here."

She's right. Like everything else, dinner is a team effort.

"I'll be back in a few," he acquiesces, dropping a soft kiss to her forehead.

* * *

><p>Saturday takes forever to arrive, but when it does, it's blissful. They've both managed to take the entire day off and their morning officially begins around noon when his wife finally drags the covers off their heads and squints against the daylight streaming through the blinds. She shivers against his lips as they trace the line of her spine.<p>

"Mmm, you have to feed me before we go another round, babe."

His lips curl against her skin. "Just expressing my appreciation for our previous rounds."

Her light laugh spreads warmth through his limbs.

"Baby wants your famous waffles," she murmurs, twisting to press her face into his chest. "Please? We have everything, I made sure the other day."

Cupping the back of her head, his lips slide across her brow. "Ricky's famous waffles coming up. After we eat, I'll set up the paint stuff and get the fans going so the fumes won't get to you. The doctor said it's okay, right?"

"Uh huh. That's why you raided mom and dad's storage unit for their extra box fans."

"Right." They'd called her doctor to ask. Since the paint isn't oil or lead-based, as long as the room is ventilated and they keep an eye on her, the doc said it was just fine for her to work with him today.

Her fingers delve into his hair, scratching his scalp gently. They lean together for a while longer, breathing each other in, before she sneaks a kiss and pulls away. "Okay, feed me now. If we're going to get any work done before dinner we need to start soon."

Yeah, she has a point. Her parents are coming over relatively early. Neither Beckett enjoys staying out too late anymore, not that he blames them, but it means he and Kate have less time to paint, clean up, and start dinner before they arrive.

"Done."

Kate grins, tossing the covers to their ankles and dragging him out of bed with her. The cold air draws a sharp whine from him and he crowds against his wife's back, following her to the bathroom.

"Nooo, Rick. I have to pee. Get dressed outside."

"But it's _cold_."

"And covering your butt will help that." Kate swats at said butt quickly, shoving him out of their bathroom. "Waffles, Richard. Pregnant wife wants waffles," she calls through the door.

"Thought you said the baby wanted the waffles? And really, after all the horribly dirty things we do to each other, are you _really_ that shy about me following you to the bathroom?"

His wife just laughs as she takes care of things.

He's already at the kitchen counter when she emerges from their bedroom, tying her hair back into a messy bun. She changed into her painting clothes; a child sized Superman t-shirt that's seen better days (stolen from his drawer at his mother's place, if the hole in the armpit is any indication) and a pair of stretchy crop pants. From the soft slap of skin on the floor as she pads to him, her feet are still bare.

"I loved that shirt. I think I actually cried when I outgrew it."

"Oh you did, your mom told me when I took it." She grins against his cheek, gently rubbing her nose across his stubble. "She said it was sweet."

Snorting, he drops the cup of carefully measured chocolate chips (plus a few more for posterity) into his waffle batter. Kate curls her arms around his waist, leaning heavily against his side. She slept better last night, but he has a feeling they may be taking a painting break midway through the day to let her nap.

"I love you, you know."

Dropping the wooden spoon into the bowl, he winds his arms around her. "Kate," he breathes, pressing his face into her neck.

"I love you," he murmurs, splaying his fingers over her back, teasing underneath the hem of her appropriated shirt to reach her skin. She shivers beneath his hand, pressing her belly against his. There's a new roundness to it that the small shirt and the contact can't hide and he grins, swiping his mouth over her neck up to her jaw.

"More every day," he promises against her cheek, thumbing her sides.

Kate turns her head, pressing a firm kiss to his mouth. "Me too, babe. I was mostly talking about the extra chocolate in my waffles," she pauses to grin, scratching his back lightly, "but you are _so_ sexy when you're romancing me."

He fakes devastation, clutching his chest dramatically as she giggles. The sound carries across the loft, bouncing along the walls and somehow managing to brighten the place more than the tall windows already have. She has that effect.

Painting prep doesn't take as long as he feared it might. Instead of him doing it all alone, Kate deals with the drop cloths while he sets up the fans and opens the windows and together they crack open the paint.

"You ready?" His wife beams as he pours the paint into the tray, brandishing a roller for him and taking one for herself. His and hers.

"Ready," he confirms. "Let's paint this kid's room."

Kate steals a kiss, diving for the tray. She's decided she'll be the first one to get paint on the wall, but he can't resist the challenge, too. Their rollers bump, dueling for the chance to slide into the reservoir first.

"Wait, should we have used a primer?" he blurts, mostly to distract her. Kate snickers, onto him already.

"Good try, hotshot," she taunts, yelping triumphantly when she reaches the paint first. "The paint has primer in it."

And with that, she stands, touching the roller to the wall and making the first long swipe. They're officially painting a nursery.

They work in silence at first, letting the hum of the fans and the gentle rasp of their paint rollers fill the room instead of conversation. As with everything else she does, Kate concentrates fully on the task, on spreading the paint evenly as far over her head as she can reach before stepping to one side and beginning the process again. He'll go back and tackle the top part of the wall on the stool, though he really doesn't mind watching the way she stretches to try to cover more ground. His eyes just can't decide whether to watch the slide of her shirt as it moves higher along her torso or the play of the muscles in her long legs when she lifts onto her toes.

"More painting, less staring, Mr. Rodgers," she teases, making a show out of stretching again anyway.

"Be less sexy and that might happen, Mrs. Rodgers," he retorts, skimming a paint-covered thumb over her hipbone on his way back to their paint tray.

She presses a hard kiss against his mouth. "I'm just painting," she murmurs, tucking a finger through his belt loop to bring his hips closer. "You're the one with the filthy mind today. Next thing I know, you'll be singing Color Me Badd to me."

His lips quirk. "Impressive reference, honey. Will it work?"

Kate's eyes drop, her lower lip retreating between her teeth. "Well," she exhales, looking thoughtful. "No."

It's all the notice she gives him before she slides a paint-covered fingertip across his forehead and yanks away.

"Hey!"

His wife throws her head back, her cackle echoing in the empty room. "That's for the handprint you just left on my ass. Now you're Siiiimba."

"Yeah, but that's your clothing, this is my _face_!"

"And it'll wash off your face," she teases, moving to tackle the next wall. "These pants are ruined."

Well, that's a little hasty. He kind of likes the green marking covering one cheek of her butt. It's artistic. Too bad they haven't opened the second color yet, otherwise he would add another print to the other cheek.

"I wouldn't say that, they look great from where I'm standing."

Kate looks over her shoulder at him, snickering a little bit before rolling her eyes. "I'm sure they do, Simba."

"Hush, we're going to be watching that movie for years with our kid. Don't ruin it with your come hither eyes."

She snorts, pushing the roller along the wall. "My come hither eyes aren't working triple overtime, buddy. Unlike yours."

"Sure they're not," he hums, reaching for the smaller brush to start on the edging. She spares him another glance over her shoulder when he climbs the stool, making sure he doesn't need her to spot him, before going back to her wall.

"Hey, Rick?"

They've been painting quietly for the last hour, though he keeps sneaking looks to make sure the fumes aren't getting to be too much for her. She's stepped out a couple times already, returning his questioning looks with a smile and nodded assurances.

"Yeah?"

"Can you come help me with something?"

That voice of hers beckons him down from the stool. Whenever she asks for something like that, he can't help but move faster.

"Hmm?" He steps behind her, dropping a kiss onto her neck, feeling the shiver run through her limbs. "What can I do for you?"

"You can," she hums, shifting her arms a little bit to allow him to palm her belly. "Stop looking so serious over there."

She spins around a moment later, sliding her roller down his chest gleefully.

Sputtering her name, he does the first thing that comes to mind: he paints her as well. Well, her clothing at least. He doesn't want too much paint to touch her skin. His paintbrush worms over her sleeve and down the worn cotton of his beloved childhood shirt.

His wife's giggles turn into a squeal. She pulls away, trotting carefully across the drop cloth to get away from him.

"That's _cold_! I can feel it through my _bra_."

Oh, he knows. That much is obvious.

He follows her around the room, of course, laughing when she retaliates by spinning and pressing her front to his back

"Not so cold now," he murmurs, jumping at the graze of her teeth through his shirt.

"Uh huh. This might be, though." She lifts his shirt, smacking her slim hand against his back, no doubt leaving her own handprint on his body.

"Oh you are so lucky I'm not allowed to paint you, too."

"Yeah?" she husks against his ear in challenge. "We could make our own body paint out of food coloring tonight after mom and dad leave and see if you'll put your money where your mouth is."

Reaching back, he manages to snag her waist before she can pull away. She's cackling too much to try very hard anyway.

Still, she squeals when he flips her, tossing her over his shoulder gracelessly.

"Rick! Put me down!"

"Maybe. In a minute." Carrying her to their paint tray, he dips the brush in the reservoir. A soft kiss on her side distracts her just long enough for him to make the first swipe with the brush over her ass.

"Rick!"

The brush is too wide to do much more than doodle, but he's pretty proud of what he can see of his work.

"I hate you," she huffs, squirming in his arms. Her fingers grip his pants tightly, though he's not sure where she's going with that touch, he's willing to see it through.

"No you don't. You adore me. Your butt says so now."

It does. The squiggled heart does encompass his initials.

"My butt's a liar," she retorts, only to dissolve into giggles again. "Oh god, that sounds dumb."

He laughs with her, lowering her to her feet only to cup her flushed cheeks in his and kiss her thoroughly.

The moan that rumbles through her catches him by surprise, and when she walks him into the hall, he's equally surprised.

"Needed a breather," she explains, tugging his lip into her mouth.

Neither of them can lean against the wall, painted as they are, but he pulls her into him instead.

"Can't argue with this type of break."

Her nails bite against his scalp. "Didn't think you would."

"Just a quick one, though," he hums. "Then we need to go back to painting."

"The walls or each other?" She grins, pulling his shirt over his head.

He shrugs, pushing her pants down her hips. Her shirt and his shorts follow suit, making it much easier to press each other into the carpet. "Either. We'll see how inspired we're feeling."

They do get the walls done, but it's in between laughter and fending off messy, questing fingers. When Kate's parents let themselves in with their emergency key (earlier than expected), she's putting the finishing touches on the finger painted masterpiece on his chest - her name – and he has to throw his shirt on hastily to meet them downstairs.

"Hey, Mom, Dad," Kate greets as they're halfway down the stairs. "Sorry, we have the fans going up there. Didn't hear you at first."

Johanna takes one look at them both and bursts into laughter. Beside her, Jim smiles too. He looks better than he has in a while; maybe getting out of the house like this is the best thing for him.

"Is there even any paint on the walls? Look at you two!" His mother-in-law chides them gently, holding out her arms for hugs they readily give as soon as they reach the bottom step.

Kate laughs, glancing sheepishly over her shoulder at him. Their clothes are covered in splatter and paint brush swipes, not to mention dried handprints.

His arm winds around her waist, palm settling over one of said handprints.

"We got a little carried away, Johanna, I think but we managed pretty well."

His wife smiles, dropping a kiss on his jaw. "We did, Mom. We'll get cleaned up and then take you guys up there. The color is gorgeous already."

Johanna smiles. "I'd love that, Katie."

He'll carry her up there, just to make things easier on everyone.

Now he just has to get Kate into their room to change clothes before her father sees the fingerprints all over her backside.


End file.
